


maybe we started this fire

by Anonymous



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Loki (Marvel), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Amorality, Consent Issues, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Extremely Dubious Consent, M/M, Manipulative Loki (Marvel), Omega Thor (Marvel), Omega Verse, Pseudo-Incest, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-14
Updated: 2019-06-14
Packaged: 2020-05-07 16:21:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19213099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: He moves forward, as if in a dream, caught up in this impossible fantasy that no magic in all of the Nine Realms should have been able to grant. It is hot to the touch -Thoris hot to the touch, burning up; heat is an apt name for this trial indeed, but Loki thinks there must be something extra at work here, something about Thor himself that has always been warm and open and delightfullywet.He has been with omegas before. He’s never felt like this before.“Please,” Thor manages to gasp out the word like a prayer, “please-please-”Loki never could deny his brother anything.





	maybe we started this fire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gayac](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gayac/gifts).



> I was gonna do more of this, but writer's block is a bitch and I wanted to get what I did manage to write out whilst I still remembered about it. Tentatively marked as complete, but I may come back to it if I ever manage to write more/if somebody has an idea in the comments that sparks something in my lizard brain.
> 
> Title from the lyrics of Bastille's 'Things We Lost In The Fire'.

Loki has never been beloved in Asgard, but never can he remember being so despised as he was immediately after he went into his first rut at eight hundred. Before then, he had been noticeably different from the rest of his family - the whispers spoke of him being _seidrmadr, silvertongue, ergi_ \- but there was no true hatred attached to those words just as there was no love. He was tolerated because he was Thor’s brother, or rather because he was Thor’s younger brother, and because when Thor was so clearly an alpha it was not Loki’s fault that he was a trickster, a sorcerer, an _argr_ in the making - after all, no Aesir family produced more than one alpha in a generation, and that meant that all other children of the same line were destined to be beta or omega.

There was no known anomaly to this system, no exception. The Norns were wise, and chose an alpha on their ability to unite the family and prevent conflict amongst kin. When Thor went into his first rut the realm rejoiced; golden Thor, the Thunderer, was their future king. It was a relief for most but also little more than an official confirmation for those who knew the crown prince personally - even then, as a gangly youth, Thor had been known for his love of combat, his strength and his strong moral compass, all typical alpha traits.

Odin told Loki and Thor that they were both born to be kings, but they both knew that wasn’t true. One of them, and only one, would present as an alpha, and the other would become _beta,_ at best an advisor, or worse yet, _omega,_ a pawn, a bargaining chip. It seems that Loki has lost this invisible battle of wills when Thor presents, and although he smarts at the idea of being married off for the good of Asgard or being stuck on the sidelines, he slowly comes to accept it. Thor listens to him, most of the time, and when he doesn’t Loki can manipulate him into doing what he wants anyway. But then Loki wakes up one morning with a knot, and the world is so full of _possibility_ again.

It shouldn’t be possible, everyone agrees. Not once, not in a billion years, had two alphas been born of the same line in the same generation of Aesir. Odin makes a pretty speech, about strength of character and fresh blood (their mother _is_ from Alfheim, after all) and absolutely no one is convinced. For the next few centuries, Loki is the object of suspicion and disdain; he must have used his magicks to change that which the Norns had already decided, they whisper, must have fiddled with a strings of Fate. He has done nothing of the sort, but nobody will believe that.

He is a pariah, for all that his parents tell him that it will all blow over soon enough. The people take his sex as a personal insult, to them and Thor both, even though Thor has never treated Loki any different after his presentation. To Thor, he is forever a little brother, beloved but surplus to requirements, and Loki loves him as much as he loathes him.

Years pass, Loki’s powers grow exponentially, and so does his resentment towards his brother. His designation has left him still in the running for the throne, and he is still theoretically Thor’s equal, but he knows the way people look at him, the anomaly, the mistake and he knows the way they look at his brother. Thor, the favourite of both their father and the realm; Thor, the warrior prince; Thor, the firstborn; Thor, the _true_ alpha.

Loki doesn’t care about the throne, he never has. He has only ever cared about being Thor’s equal, and he knows that he never has been, not to anyone. Thor, it seems, is better than him in every way - he is handsomer, he is the greater warrior, he is the better son. He is certainly a better brother to Loki than Loki is to him.

If Loki was a good brother he wouldn’t have a vial from Alfheim burning a hole in his coat pocket. If Loki was a good brother he wouldn’t have paid any attention to a rumour that had made its way to Asgard over two hundred years before, about a way to turn alpha into omega and vice versa.

(What really intrigues him about it, beyond the fact that everyone looks at him when the rumour is spoken of, thinking he already knows it’s secrets, is that such a thing makes no _sense._ Although not all the realms have second genders, and very few have the precise genetic rules of the Aesir, it is a constant across the universe that once somebody has presented as alpha, omega or beta then that presentation is unchangeable. To consider otherwise is impossible.

Loki has always been rather good at impossible.)

It had taken centuries, he has walked across half of the known universe following leads and whispers - Alfheim was where he had the potion made, under the watchful eyes of alchemists who had been paid exceptionally well to not only make the potion but to keep their mouths shut about having done so, but the knowledge of how to make it had been painstakingly constructed from snippets of information across the cosmos. A retired pilot on Xandar, a trader on Knowhere, a farmer on Berhert, a witch on Korbin-

At any point, he could have stopped. There were enough reasons to, enough hopeless days when all he did seemed to be for nought; those rare nights when Thor put his arm around him at dinner and beamed at him in a way that sent his stomach into spasm from guilt. There were enough warnings; enough people telling him that this information had been broken apart and thrown to the far-flung reaches of the universe for a reason.

He does not stop. He is Loki. He does not know how.

Once he has the potion, it is embarrassingly easy to carry out the rest of his plan. He stays inside the library for three weeks solid, prompting Thor to decide to drag him out on a hunt as he is wont to do when he decides Loki has spent too long sequestered away with his books. It’s the work of a moment to look at Thor with a wistful smile and say _remember when we went out as boys, just the two of us?_ and Thor promptly decides only the two of them will be going, leaving his friends behind.

It is necessary, of course - if any one of them questioned Thor’s subtly changing scent before the heat hit, then they would be back in Asgard before the change became permanent and Loki has far too much respect for Eir’s skills to think she couldn’t reverse his spell before it truly settled and stuck. But it is also a little personal - the Warriors Three were always Thor’s friends, who barely tolerated Loki, and Loki’s history with the Lady Sif is long and bitter to say the least.

To dose Thor’s mead, broth and meat with the concoction is child’s play, because Thor has no interest in cooking and gladly lets Loki take over when he offers. He trusts his brother. He really shouldn’t. He was the one who named him  _Liesmith,_ after all. A week passes, and nothing appears to change, Loki feels disappointment creeping up on him as Thor remains hale and his scent musky. He is almost ready to give up, and start searching again for the answer of where he went wrong, when on the eighth morn of their hunt Thor’s scent transforms.

Loki had assumed it would be a gradual process. He was wrong. He wakes up to find their camp smelling overwhelmingly of citrus and honeysuckle, to find Thor’s bedroll empty and his brother collapsed at the side of the spring their camp straddles. He’s thrown his trousers off, and has his entire bottom half submerged in the icy water. His nightshirt is soaked through and sticks to the defined ridges of his chest, his pebbled nipples standing to attention.

Maybe it is wishful thinking that those hard muscles have decreased in size a touch. (Maybe it isn’t.) What absolutely is not wishful thinking is that Thor’s head is thrown back, his eyes closed and mouth open as he moans helplessly, his manhood erect despite the cold of the water. Stray tendrils of golden hair stick to the sides of his face, his cheeks a deep red, his body throwing off pheromones more wonderful than any Loki has smelled before - telling him to _take,_ to _claim-_

That’s wrong. That shouldn’t be possible.

An alpha is never affected by a sibling’s scent. It would lead to inbreeding, to genetic deformities and polluted bloodlines.

But Loki’s length doesn’t care for what should be and what should not be possible - when Loki looks at Thor _,_ dear Norns, his _brother_ , it stirs something deep inside of him that has never stirred before.

Thor has always been handsome. But when Loki looks at him now, helpless and wracked by heat, the word _beautiful_ comes to mind. His whiskers are the colour of honey, his curls falling down his back. He’s all pink and yellow and red, and Loki wants to devour him.

Loki’s had lovers, more lovers than you’d think - he can shapeshift to be anyone, and many people are willing to spend a night with a handsome alpha if they don’t know his true face or name. But what he feels now- that isn’t just lust, isn’t just _want._ Loki has known those things before.

What he feels now is foreign, and so very strong. He takes in a shuddering breath, and feels his heart pounding in his chest. “Th-Thor?” He stammers, all his pre-prepared speeches and explanations disappearing from his mind in an instant as his brother’s eyes snap open. They’re glazed, and so very blue, and Thor looks up at Loki with tears in his eyes.

“Brother,” Thor whines, his voice caught between a moan and a sob, “Loki- I don’t-”

“You’re in heat,” Loki breathes, unable to deny what he’s seeing, what he’s feeling, even though he had planned to put off on telling Thor what’s happening as long as possible. There’s no point. Thor must know, must have guessed, even if he doesn’t know _how_ it has happened. Loki tries to sound shocked, but his voice comes out awed instead.

“No-!” Thor says, and cuts himself off with a hoarse gasp as another wave of heat burns through him. He looks at Loki again, utterly stricken, and Loki doesn’t know he’s moving until he’s already crouching down to Thor’s side, his hand going out to caress Thor’s cheek without his permission. It is a mockery of Thor’s affectionate squeeze to the join of Loki’s jaw and neck, and Loki half expects Thor to push him away, but instead he groans wantonly, his pupils so dilated that his eyes appear black. “I can’t-” Thor sobs, trembling, though Loki doesn’t know whether he does so because of the cold of the water or the power of the heat, “I _can’t_ be. I’m an _alpha-_ I’ve been having ruts for three hundred years-”

“Brother,” Loki breathes, and the hand that is not cupping Thor’s cheek makes its way down to his chest, his stomach, lower still. A strangled gasp is all that Thor says in response. Mind made up, Loki puts one hand under Thor’s bare legs and the other around his shoulders. Without warning, he stands with Thor in his arms, and wobbles a little. Not from the weight - Loki is a god, after all - but from the force of the scent that assaults him as he does so. The spring had actually been lessening Thor’s scent, as insane as it seems, and now that he is in Loki’s arms the need that rushes over him is incredible and irresistible.

 _“Loki!”_ Thor cries out at the unexpected move, “Loki- no- please, it’s too much-”

“You’ll be fine, brother,” Loki says in a hoarse voice as he staggers towards their shared tent, “I won’t let anything happen to you.”

When he lays Thor down on his own furs, Thor lets out a whine as he pulls his hands away, and reaches out for him, just falling short, too weak, too _omega_ to find the strength to sit up, to lean forward, to pull him to his body and feel his skin again.

Loki looks at him, breathless. It is like every fantasy he has never allowed himself to indulge, every bad-dirty-wrong thought that snuck into his mind when he was touching himself. Thor, at his mercy. Thor, prostrate before him. Thor, _wanting-_

Thor moans, spreads his legs and Loki catches sight of a thick, translucent syrup that is coming from his brother’s hole. He moves forward, as if in a dream, caught up in this impossible fantasy that no magic in all of the Nine Realms should have been able to grant. It is hot to the touch - _Thor_ is hot to the touch, burning up; heat is an apt name for this trial indeed, but Loki thinks there must be something extra at work here, something about Thor himself that had always been warm and open and delightfully _wet._ He has been with omegas before. He’s never felt like this before.

“Please,” Thor manages to gasp out the word like a prayer, “please- _please-”_

Loki never could deny his brother anything.

Still, it surprises him how easy it is to slip one finger into Thor, two, three- at four, Thor is a gibbering mess and Loki is as hard as rock. He removes his digits one by one and his brother has not the time to whine at the loss before Loki has thrust himself deep inside him, to the hilt.

“There you go,” Loki says rawly, feeling drunk and giddy and all of seven hundred again, about to lose his virginity. “There you go- take it, take it-”

And he does. Norns be good, he does. Thor takes all of him beautifully, like he was born to it (why was he _not_ born to it? Nothing has ever looked so natural, so breathtaking, as Thor’s perfect arse split in half by Loki’s cock) and Loki knows he won’t last long. He also knows it won’t matter. He’s an alpha, and Thor is an omega in heat; his biology won’t allow him to be soft for too long, fearing being replaced by another if he leaves the omega alone for too long.

Loki knows that can’t happen, of course; nobody will find them here. But his addled brain tacks on that, if by some impossible miracle, somebody did stumble upon them… _did_ dare to try and take Thor from Loki…

Loki would obliterate them. He knows it deep in his bones.

He comes as Thor moans beneath him like a wanton whore, and his hindbrain murmurs platitudes about _mate-pups-take-mine._ He doesn’t let it rule him, not like some Aesir warriors, but for once they are in complete agreement about the required course of action. _Mate. Pups. Take. Mine._

He leans down, tastes Thor’s golden skin, lapping at his neck where his new scent glands are growing. Thor whines, caught between pain and pleasure, and Loki bites down.

He has never taken a mate before, or even considered doing so; he never felt the need, for all that Volstagg loudly championed the virtues of a mating and Odin had given he and Thor lectures about their duties to the royal line. But he knows that if he doesn’t claim Thor here and now then he will regret it for the rest of his life.

It’s impossible to put into words what he feels next. The closest he can come to an explanation is this: there has been a darkened room in the back of Loki’s mind and he never even knew it was there. It was locked up tight and he’d never even seen it, even though it had been right _there,_ waiting, all his life. He thought he’d been complete, whole, and then-

Then, somebody who smells citrus and honeysuckle and sweetness, the only person in all the universe he thinks he may love more than he loves himself, comes along and he has the key. He knows exactly where the door is, when Loki hadn’t known himself. He throws open those invisible, impenetrable doors, this beautiful creature, this familiar stranger, and the light streams in, burning away all the rotted wood and cracked glass.

 _There you are,_ Loki’s entire body thrums, _I’ve been looking for you. How did I not know?_

After that, he remembers very little. He knows he comes in Thor, knows he peppers every inch of him with kisses and lovebites as his knot deflates, knows they spend the whole day like that, and then do the same the next. He remembers flashes of Thor’s body; his pink lips wrapped around Loki’s cock, his red member weeping against his stomach, his voice cracking as he calls out Loki’s name.

Truly, Thor was made for this. Loki had not defied the Norns; no, he had set right a terrible mistake.

When, on the third day, their party is discovered by the Warriors Three, it is too late.

**Author's Note:**

> @Gayac, this is all your fault and I blame you entirely.


End file.
